


Roleplay - One Piece - Surprise - Emil | Law | Rosi

by saucyspinach, someidioticurl



Category: One Piece
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26267962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyspinach/pseuds/saucyspinach, https://archiveofourown.org/users/someidioticurl/pseuds/someidioticurl
Summary: One Piece based RP between Lizard (Emil; Law) and Lena (Rosi).We'll update tags as we goLizard: 15,910 / Lena: 17784





	Roleplay - One Piece - Surprise - Emil | Law | Rosi

**Lena**

In the dark of the night, a tall, ungainly shadow skulked along the streets, drawing on his covert skills, honed over the years in the Marines. He moved in silence, not a sound he made, his footsteps muted by his soundproof barrier. Several feet ahead was the unsuspecting couple he’d been trailing through the town. The shadow paused when they paused, ducked when either turned around, and tripped once – the trash cushioning his fall, before he continued on their tail once more.

With every fibre of his being, Rosinante felt like a creep. This was what creeps and stalkers did, wasn’t it? He was stalking his adopted son (he couldn’t figure a more fitting term) and his future daughter-in-law, and had been following them for a few days, ever since, by chance, he caught a glimpse of that conspicuous mushroom spotted hat. Rosinante had done a double-take and went into brief cardiac arrest. Law had a girlfriend? No way. While the kid had blossomed into a fine and handsome young man, would girls be attracted to such a grouchy and sour temperament? Granted, Law had matured, and he was no longer afflicted with illness.

Rosinante had felt his chest swell with pride and joy, observing Law with the girl. Law was happy, wasn’t he? The kid rarely smiled, but Rosinante hoped he was happy. Were they married? No, surely, there’d be news of such an event. He wondered how long they’d known each other. In fact, Rosinante had numerous questions buzzing in his mind. The girl was pretty. A tad tomboyish, Rosi thought. Muscular. She looked cheery enough, and for that, Rosi was grateful. Law needed someone cheery to contrast his cold demeanour. He needed someone to smack cheeriness onto his face.

Sleepless nights were an ordinary affair, and yet, since chancing upon the couple, Rosinante’s nights were spent deliberating over whether he ought to approach, wish them well, though days would pass before Rosinante made up his mind and gathered sufficient courage to step out of the shadows. Still, he waited until Law had left and the girl was alone, and then he followed her back to the harbour. Having done away with his face paint years ago, Rosi figured, at least, he wouldn’t terrify her too badly if she happened to turn around and see him. He walked with a slight awkward gait, his posture hunched, a look of quiet intensity in his eyes. Although he felt like a creepy old man shadowing the lady, he hoped the light from the street lamp would be generous in illuminating his face.

Rosinante glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting Law to materialise out of nowhere to kick his sorry ass for stalking his girlfriend. Rosinante turned back to the lady when he saw no signs of the spotted hat accompanying an enraged face. Rosinante deactivated his barrier.

“Hey!” he called out, his voice hoarse from years of abusing the cancer stick. A second later, regret flashed in his eyes. “Uh.” He halted in his steps, lowered his gaze to stare at the ground. Great. Now she’d think he wanted to kidnap her. Rosi panicked because he’d never been in such a situation. Moreover, after his recent period of hibernation, his social skills had atrophied. “You there!” He heard someone say and realised it was him. Great, things were just escalating now. She likely thought him a murderer. Rosinante held up his hands, forgetting that he was holding a beer bottle, a potential murder weapon. Quick, explain!

“You- I saw you with him,” Rosinante faltered. “L…Law.” The name felt funny on his tongue. It’d been too many years. “You could say I knew him when he was a kid.” A pause. “It’s been many years since then, since we last saw each other.” Rosinante’s shoulders drooped with a quiet sigh. “He doesn’t know I’m here,” he admitted. “And there’s a reason it needs to stay that way.” He raised his gaze to the lady. “Can we talk, somewhere?”

* * *

**Lizard**

He got closer than ever.

Emil had noticed him before. A tall, lone and strong man skulking along the walls on a rather empty street was hard to miss. At least for her: in the middle of the night, hidden in shadows of houses he might have avoided an ordinary and less ordinary eyes - he had avoided Law's sight after all - but for Emil, it was as if he walked in plain sight, in broad daylight. He might have slipped her attention if he just strolled through the street but the fact he sneaked around gave him away.

Was he a headhunter? Was he tracking Law to see if attempting to capture him was worth the risk? Was he a fan? An ordinary fan gathering courage to approach Law? After all, Law _was_ a dangerous man. 

Either could be true. Both could be false. Neither Law nor Emil knew who this man was or what his intent was but other than following them at a nonthreatening distance, ha hadn't done anything worrying.

Yet.

Apparently this was the night he decided to stop stalking them and approach Emil instead.

Emil hopped onto a crate and, swinging her feet, pulled out her cookie bag. She had been on her way back to Caramel but decided to stall for time a bit. Caramel was _not_ built for combat and Emil would rather be jumped away from it than while trapped indoor.

Thus, with her eyes on Bor - who pecked crumbles off his butter cookie - Emil paid the man approaching her close attention... He was good. She couldn't hear him. Not a single footstep. Not a single breath. Not the softest rustle of his clothes. It was impressive. Emil could sneak around but this level was _extraordinary_. To top it off, taking his movements into consideration, he _shouldn't_ be this silent. If she followed his movements while he was far away, she would have expected him to make quite a ruckus. Yes, the sea and wind made noise with an occasional caw of a seagull but Emil couldn't hear _anything_. Not a _single_ thing. Was he a fruit user? Law had mentioned Corzaon had a soundproofing fruit. There was a possibility this man happened to be the next user. Slim ones, yes, but more probable that this was Corazon himself. Corazon was dead, after all.

He spoke up and Emil looked up with a carefree smile on her face. The man paused and seemed... Awkward. Unsure what to do with himself in this situation. Either he guessed right or he was a good actor. Either way, Emil just sat on her crate, munched her coconut cookie and waited for him to continue and state his business.

"I have to thank you," she chuckled, patting an empty crate next to her own - if he wanted to talk somewhere, he would have to satisfy himself with those crates. The area was quiet and empty enough, with only an occasional passerby too sleepy or drunk to pay them much interest. "You've just won me a nice, free dinner." She shrugged. "I claimed you were interested in Law; Law claimed you were interested in me." She didn't mind revealing the fact they had noticed this lanky man. "Well, I'm quite sure Law was convinced you were after him as well but claimed otherwise just for the sake of having a bet." Law was the popular one between the two of them. The well-known one. The Supernova. The Surgeon of Death. The ex-Shichibukai. Yes, Emil's epithet was just as interesting but her bounty was less than a fifth of Law's. Why would anyone bother with her when Law stood beside her? He was the dangerous one. Everyone should pay attention to _him_.

 _That_ was exactly the answer- no one paid her any mind, everyone underestimated her, she could strike from the shadows when they lowered their guard.

Emil took a random cookie out of her bag and offered it the strange, lanky man. "Here, that's for you." She smirked. "If you tell me some amusing stories from Law's childhood, I might consider not telling him you visited me." Maybe not everything but Law had shared a lot with her - if stories this man told her contrasted too much, her bullshit meter would raise. At that moment, it was sitting on a comfortable 'weird but let's amuse him for now'. Then again, as a child, Law hadn't been all that different than as an adult.

"So? What's your name?" Emil stroked Bor's head, fully aware she hadn't shared hers. She paused, then chuckled. "If you don't tell me, I'm just gonna refer to you as Leggins."

* * *

**Lena**

Stupefaction passed momentarily over Rosi’s features at the lady’s insouciance, given the dark and quiet of their surroundings, and considering that he had been made. Yet, there she sat, on the crate, munching a cookie and feeding her bird, as though they were simply enjoying a nice day at the park. Still, he supposed it made sense. Anyone close to Law ought to be of a certain calibre, able to stand their ground in fights, and it seemed either Law or the lady must’ve had observation haki to have detected his presence. Rosi looked at the crate the lady gestured towards. He glanced around, half-expecting Law to emerge from the shadows. He didn’t want their reunion to begin this way.

Rosi ambled towards the crate and eased himself down onto it, keeping his weight on his feet as he sat down, lest the crate gave way under him. When he determined it sturdy enough not to embarrass him, he settled down on it. Good impressions- he needed to leave only good impressions on Law’s future wife. He stared at the cookie she offered him, figured it couldn’t be poisoned if she’d been eating out of the same bag, so he accepted the cookie, with a small murmur of thanks, and watched her stroke her bird. Already he was happy Law had someone this amiable in his company.

For a moment, Rosi sat in silence, staring ahead into the night as he nibbled on his butter cookie. It was good, really good, though he too preoccupied in his head to savour the taste.

He found himself in an awkward position, physically and figuratively. He shifted slightly on the crate, pondering how much to reveal to the lady. He knew he needed to give her something to gain her trust and allay her suspicion (despite her friendliness, he supposed she had to be inwardly suspicious), though he didn’t wish to overstep. While he had been in very few relationships, even he knew that there were some things people didn’t tell their significant others until much later – or ever, in the case of some. He had no idea how much Law had told the lady, and what Law wanted to keep private, Rosi didn’t want to be the one to blab inconsiderately. He didn’t need to give Law any more reasons to be upset with him. Certain things she had to hear from Law, directly. Furthermore, how could he assume Law had remembered him after all these years? How could he assume he mattered enough for Law to tell his future wife about him?

Besides – Rosi’s brows furrowed deep in thought – amusing stories from Law’s childhood? Even that…even that, Rosi had no idea about. He’d never known much about Law’s past before Law had shown up that day wanting to join the Donquixote Pirates, never known much about Law’s life before he lost it all. Law had to have happier memories and funny stories; they couldn’t all be bleak and infused with tragedy… Except, Rosi didn’t know about those. All he’d seen in Law were hatred, wrath, sorrow, regret, cold, bitter malice – and, at times, the briefest traces of fear. He could only hope, if he got to look into Law’s eyes again, he would see in them faint glimmers of light amidst the darkness.

“My name…?” He gave her a sidelong glance, and paused for a second or two, as though he was counting on her to tell him. Names… He’d cycled through several over the years. New island, new name, new identity. “You can call me Leggins,” he said. It sounded a good name as any. “I’ll be Leggins – will that be L-E-G-G-I-N-G-S or L-A-G-G-I-N-G-S?” Rosi finished his cookie and dusted the crumbs from his fingers. “…I don’t know how much Law has told you,” he said. “Some things you need to hear from him and him alone.” He glanced at her cookie bag – although he hadn’t had the appetite, the single cookie he’d tried had whetted it. Nonetheless, he didn’t ask for one. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees.

“I met Law at a point in his life where there were no happy memories, Miss – your name?” he asked. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll refer to you as Butter Cookie.” It sounded a good name as any. His expression remained solemn, no signs that he was joking. He turned away from her, clasping his hands and dipping his gaze. “Law… We travelled together a couple of months. He was sick. We were searching for a cure...” A soft smile touched his lips at the snippets of memories that remained of those moments. He felt a lump rising to his throat, and leaned his head into his hands. He pushed his hands through his hair, causing his hood to slip back.

“How are things between you two?” he asked, abruptly changing the topic. He glanced over, and his expression softened a little - and for a fraction of a second, a smile flickered on his face. “How’d you meet him, anyway? Have you known each other long?” He straightened up slightly, his eyes lighting up. "Who was it that did the courting? Was it him?" For some reason, he just could not imagine Law picking up women, and perhaps that was for the better that he couldn't.

* * *

**Lizard**

The longer he sat beside her, the more Emil's nose wrinkled. He _stank_. A stench of cigarettes wafted from him, draining Emil of any enjoyment of her cookie, riding her of any desire to eat at all. She put her half-eaten coconut cookie beside Bor, for him to finish - she envied Bor for not being bothered by this stench.

"If you want my name, you can ask Law for it." Shrugging, she turned her head away; maybe this would help with the smell? "Or you can give me your real one - it's _you_ who wants something to do with me. And whichever spelling of the Leggings you prefer, it's not like I'm going to write it down anytime soon." When was the last time she had written anything down anyway? Years probably. The closest she could manage to reading was following someone's hand movement when they handwrote too.

Silence powers.

Tall.

Smoking like a chimney. Well, maybe not that very moment but he had to in general in order to stink like that.

A feathered coat.

Had helped Law to find a cure.

All fit. As far as Emil was aware, Corazon was the only person who had helped Law to look for his amber lead poisoning. Though, once again, there was one issue - Corazon was dead... Then again, Emil _had_ faked her death herself.

Holding her breath, Emil turned her head to Leggings and didn't hide the fact she eyed him up and down, squinting at him with her lips pressed into a thin line.

"We are good, thank you." Courting? Did he think they were dating? Well, he wouldn't be the first one to make this assumption and probably not the last one. Even Marines, at some point, had thought Emil joined Law's crew. Neither Law nor Emil was bothered enough to clarify this mistake but as far as they were aware, the popular opinion was that Heart Pirates and Post Mortem Pirates were _at least_ allied.

Well, that was it.

"We met almost three years ago?" Sounding unsure, Emil hopped off her crate. "I'm terrible with dates, for all I know it could be over three now." With no worry in the world about the loudness of her actions, Emil pushed her crate along the road, away from Leggings'. "Heart Pirates landed on the island I lived on and crashed at my place while waiting for their Log Pose to set - it took a month." Did Emil make it sound like there was a chance she hadn't been the only humanoid habitat of this island on purpose? Yes. Did she omit the fact she had given them one of her own Log Poses only a week in? Yes.

With the crate roughly three meters from Leggings', Emil hopped back up onto it and grinned the brightest grin. "You stink," she beamed as if telling him he was funny. "I dislike the smell of cigarettes and you smell as if you smoke instead of eating or drinking. Law was a grumpy bastard but an interesting grumpy bastard. He still is. I had business on the next island they were going to so I asked if I can join on their submarine." It had been a payment for giving them the log pose but oh well, yet another piece Leggings didn't have to know.

"Say, Leggings." Leaning back on her hands, she swung her legs. Looking up at the sky, she let go of a thoughtful hum. She wondered whether the sky was clouded or not but also whether or not to call this man, who might be - by some miracle - Corazon or a Corazon imposter, by this exact name. Should she let him know she knew about Corazon? After all, he had mentioned he didn't want to share Law's secrets. On one side, Emil disliked sharing other people's secrets herself, but on the other side, it was a perfect excuse _not_ to share anything in case he actually didn't know anything.

"Why didn't you come out earlier?" She tilted her head to face the man. Was he genuine, or a convincing imposter? "Law's convinced you're dead, Corazon."

* * *

**Lena**

Rosi was initially taken aback when Butter Cookie hopped off the crate and pushed it away. He watched her wordlessly with slightly raised brows, then figured, perhaps she was playing along, in the event Law popped up, he would be suspicious of them talking at such closeness. Maybe she was taking precautions, since Rosi had told her he didn’t want Law to know about him; maybe she didn’t want it to seem like she was talking intimately with another man? Her grin confused him, then – ah, so it was the stench of cigarettes that bothered the lady. Well, he could appreciate her frankness, not to leave him guessing what was bothering her. Rosi sniffed at his shirt and wrinkled his nose in agreement, no offence taken.

Then she said it: _Corazon_.

Surprise flickered fleetingly on Rosi’s face and he averted his gaze from her, staring at the ground before his feet as his pulse quickened a smidgen. Unclenching his fingers, he glanced down at his calloused palms, and his lips pulled into a smile, tinged with sorrow. “Corazon is dead,” Rosi said, emphatically. “No doubt about that.” He lifted his head and turned to Butter Cookie. “Is this better, then?” He gestured to the space between them. “I won’t keep you long, so just bear with the smell.” He gave a faint smile, apologetic.

“…A grumpy bastard, is he?” Rosi looked away from her, hiding the glimmer of nostalgia in his eyes. “…He hasn’t changed.” He shrugged off his feather coat and draped it on his lap, going quiet for a moment. “But that’s not all that he is, as you must know, if you’ve stayed by his side three years,” he said, a note of gladness in his tone. He was happy to hear that Law was slowly moving on with his life, after everything. He was content with just knowing that. Did he wish to meet and talk with Law again? It seemed…unnecessary. Would Law even wish to see him again? It had been years; how could he explain the silence over the decade, never bothering to inform Law that Hey, actually, I didn’t die, just so you know… Often, he wondered if it’d make any difference. Had he reached out sooner, would Law have persisted in his dumb suicide mission to take out Doflamingo? And after he’d told him to stay away from Doffy.

“And don’t be mistaken, lady,” Rosi added. “I stayed back in the shadows more for Law’s sake than my own.” He made a disgruntled face. “If we were to meet, I wouldn’t be able to resist smacking him upside the head for the stupid decisions he’s made over the years.” He glanced sidelong at her. “I can’t stop you from telling him about our meeting, but I’ll be gone by then.” He gathered his coat, slipped it over his shoulders, and stood up. He paused a second, looking at her hesitantly. He turned his back to her, started a few steps away, then he turned back, fixing his gaze on her. “…Take care of him,” he said quietly. “If he’s about to do anything stupid, you have my permission to put him in a chokehold to restrain him.”

* * *

**Lizard**

Oh no, he was _not_ going to leave. Should he be real Corazon, Emil was going to make sure to - one way or another, sooner or later - drag his sorry ass to Law for a whooping. Should he be an imposter, Emil still was going to drag his sorry ass to Law for whatever punishment Law deemed suitable. In a hushed tone, she told Bor to make sure Leggings doesn't get too far away.

Bor chirped and fluttered over to sit on the man's shoulder or at least somewhere close by. Yes, the man was tall but Bor, in his full, crow form was still three if not four times taller. Strong or not, if taken by surprise, Bor should be able to pin the man to the ground at least for some time.

"I don't need your permission to do to Law whatever I please, Leggings." There was still a spark of amusement in Emil's tone but it _did_ sound more serious. She took out her Den Den Mushi and dialled Law. "I don't need nor even want your blessing or whatever that was. If you want those to hold any merit anymore, go talk to Law in person. Don't you dare to feel better about never approaching him only because you spoke to me."

The Den Den Mushi rang the second time and then clicked.

"Flea." Law's tone was clear but with a note of tiredness.

"Hey, L." Emil didn't even try to hide a smile that stretched her lips. "Am I interrupting?"

"I'm making coffee so _immensely_." As on a cue, something on his side hissed. Probably a steamer.

"This dude that stalked us approached me tonight." Emil lifted her eyes at Leggings as if watching his reaction.

There was silence on the other end of the line, then something clicked. Had Law placed his cup on a counter? "Wait. I _won_?"

Emil snorted. "You could at least _pretend_ to not be this surprised, L. I have fans too, you know. But no, I won. He approached me to ask about you cause he's too shy to approach you."

" _T_ _hat_ makes more sense." Was there a note of amusement in his tone? Emil sure heard one. "That's good. I was going to take you to dinner tomorrow anyway; Cherri found a new restaurant today and swears they serve amazing North Blue cuisine."

"You lucky bastard, L." Emil chuckled.

"Mister Stalker," now, Law's tone was cold and any sounds of him preparing coffee were gone, "next time you have some business with me, come to me directly instead of bothering my allies. Am I clear?"

Emil's smile widened into an amused grin as she once again looked at Leggings. Look at Law go - she had never openly told him Leggings was still with her but he had picked on her little, short hint. Now, she wondered. Wondered whether Corazon would gather enough responsibility and courage to speak up and reply, or should he prove to be a disappointment and walk away in silence.

* * *

**Lena**

Rosinante glanced at the sparrow that perched on his shoulder but didn’t shoo it away. It wouldn’t be the first time a bird chose his head or shoulders as an ideal defecation location. Rosi did, however, remove his coat and draped it over his arm. It was difficult getting anything out of the coat, and bird poop simply contrasted too well with its dark colour.

A small smile crept over his face when the lady said she didn’t need his permission to do to Law as she pleased. His mind went places and he grimaced. Evacuate, evacuate, pronto! Dangerous was the territory his thoughts had been venturing into. There was no return past that point. Thankfully, the lady diverted his train of thoughts when she pulled out the den den mushi. His brows puckered and he glanced away when she suggested he ought to approach Law in person. What did she know? She knew nothing.

Rosi’s face paled a shade when that awfully familiar voice – deeper, now – sounded through the den den mushi. _Flea? L?_ There was no mistaking the voice, though Rosi was surprised to hear a trace of fondness in his tone. Of course, they were in a relationship, yet the idea of Law and affection seemed polar opposites. But people changed; he should be glad for the tincture of warmth Law was capable of. Though, coffee at this hour? Then again, Rosi supposed that was better than alcohol.

Then she said it, she mentioned _him_. Despite that Law was likely miles or so away, Rosi froze briefly, a tingle passing over his skin. He clamped his lips shut, as though worried a betraying sound would escape his lips. Law, he sounded amused. Rosi listened to their exchange, feeling more like a creep, eavesdropping on their tete-a-tete, hearing Law arrange a date with his girl. Still, Rosi felt a flush of pride. Look at him! Law being romantic. Rosi gave a relieved sigh. So the boy was just a bit ordinary, after all. He was worried all Law would concern himself with was death and killing. It was all Rosi could ever ask for, for Law to have some normalcy in his life.

 _Mister Stalker_ , came Law’s voice, addressing him, coldly, all the warmth evaporating from his tone. Rosi’s eyes widened a fraction, a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look flickering over his face. Eyes downcast, Rosi stilled, not wanting to make the slightest sound that would confirm his presence. Law…

Rosi smiled, pleased and wistful, all the same. He bit his lower lip and released a drawn-out breath, clutching the bottle in his hand, his other fist clenched by his side.

“I’m just a fan,” Rosi said quietly. “And…no thanks. I prefer doing my revering from a safe distance.” He chuckled. “I’ve seen what you’re capable of. Don’t need my heart stolen… _Law_ ,” Rosi said, a note of tenderness (but also a hint of authority) colouring his tone as he uttered the name he’d never spoke in years. “Yes, I’m familiar with your infamy, all too well…and I wasn’t bothering your missus. A little conversation we were having, is all.” Rosi turned to Emil, flicking her a look of gratitude. He cleared his throat, and murmured, “Good night.” With a slight wave of his hand, he turned to leave. Rosi barely made it three steps before he felt a sudden weight bearing down on his shoulder. He staggered another step or two, and then he tumbled over, his face kissing the ground, a gasp emitting from his lips, the beer bottle rolling away into a drain. He pressed his palms against the ground and tried to push himself up, but it felt like an elephant had run him over only to sit right there on top of him.

* * *

**Lizard**

Emil took another bite of yet another cookie when Bor transformed into his giant crow form, pinning Leggings to the ground. She almost regretted she had no smaller crate to rest her elbow on and head on her palm - it would look more badass. Still, she had to roll with what she had.

"You know, I used to like you." Emil hopped off her crate and walked over. Any traces of her previous amusement were now gone. "Corazon. The man with a mission. A mission he was willing to jeopardise just to help out one _angry_ kid." She scratched Bor's leg before crouching down in front of Leggings. "They _do_ say you shouldn't meet your heroes. I thought you a noble man, Donquixote Rosinante. A man with compassion too big for your own good. As a dead man, you were a knight in shining armour. As alive one..." Her nose wrinkled, both at the literal and figurative stench of him. "I'm not sure whether what I'm feeling is a disappointment, anger or a mix of the two." She put her half-eaten cookie on the top of his head and smirked when Bor shifted his weight, pressing more on his chest.

"For Law's sake, you said." She sneered, staring right in his eyes with her pale ones - she _hoped_ her blind gaze would unnerve him. "Do you even believe that yourself? If you _cared_ for him as you claim to, you should have shown up the very first chance you had. You should have smacked him in the head because _you_ out of _all_ people might be _actually_ able to kick this _stubborn_ ass of his off the straight path to self-destruction. After all, _you_ -" Emil poked his forehead- "were the reason he was on it in the first place."

Emil sighed and stood up. "I won't tell Law you were the stalker." She reached out her hand. "Bor."

Bor transformed back into his tiny form and landed on Emil's shoulder now.

"Make up your mind though, whether you want to see him face to face or _never_ again." She smiled softly when scratching Bor's head but it was gone as soon as she turned her eyes back to Leggings. Oh, if she could rectify the error of the past and ensure the man in front her _was_ dead. Law would hate her for that though - the last thing she needed was to become Law's next murderous obsession. "I've noticed you once and I _will_ notice you again and when it happens, you can be sure I'll grab Law's sexy ass and bring him over to kick your saggy one." Should she tell him the range of her haki? No. There was no way she would tell him the distance he had to keep was not ten yards, not a hundred yards but nearly a mile.

Oh, look, now Emil had a reason to train to make her range _even bigger_.

Now, it was Emil to turn away and she clenched her fists, resisting the urge to break Legging's nose. "Stop lying to yourself and make up your damn mind."

* * *

**Lena**

It took Rosinante a moment to realise her little birdie had disappeared, though he had a good idea of its current whereabouts, the large claws digging into his back no doubt the birdie’s dismal attempt at a massage. Weighed down, deflated, he lay there unmoving. While it was within his capability to wrestle the bird off, his limbs felt anchored to the ground, deadened.

Her vitriol rang in his ears, and his face tightened; inwardly, he seethed. _Just because she was Law’s woman._ Yet he could not deny the truth of her words. Where he currently stood, he was a disappointment. Rosinante felt the pressure increase on his back, and gritted his teeth, certain he might crack a rib; perhaps her bird would crush him. Where was his strength? He tried to summon the last of it.

Rosinante met her gaze, fixed her a flinty stare, narrowed his eyes. He noticed, up close, her own were cloudy, pale. Was she blind? The realisation took him by surprise.

No, he couldn’t meet his end there. He couldn’t have Law discovering him like this, for the second time. There would be no third, but nonetheless. If he were to expire, it would be far out of Law’s reach or sight.

Emil poked his forehead, and instinctively, he swiped at her hand and pushed himself up, just as the weight eased off his back. He sat back on his heels, then he rose to his feet, retrieved his coat, and dusted it down. He clutched his coat and draped it over a shoulder. Gazing straight ahead, with Emil in his peripheral vision, he strolled forward a step or two, and paused beside her, facing in the opposite direction.

“I’m no hero,” Rosinante said. “He – _You_ may have painted me out to be one, but I never set out to act like one, nor had I ever the intention to be one.” He took another step forward, and his chin drooped towards his chest. Everything she’d said was exactly the reasons why he couldn’t meet Law now. He didn’t wish to ruin the impression Law had of him. Law didn’t need him any longer. It was mere coincidence that their paths should be fated to cross again, but that was it. One did not have to succumb to fate.

Besides, what did she know? He should’ve shown up the very first chance he had? How could he, with Doflamingo and the Marines watching his back? Granted, the former didn’t know about his survival, but that was because of his efforts to lie low. He couldn’t get anywhere near Law back then without jeopardising Law’s safety, putting a target on his back. The Marines would want Law, Doflamingo would want Law. It did, it pained him more than anything to know that Law had foolishly put himself on the path of self-destruction, a path Rosinante wasn’t all too unfamiliar with, but by the time he’d found out about Law’s plans, it was too late. Was he making excuses? He didn’t need to answer that.

Half-turning to her, he murmured, “And, compassion?” He gave a derisive chuckle, that escalated into a dry laugh. “Knight in shining armor? The fairy-tale stories you kids tell yourselves. Ah, but you are young. One day, you will see…” He turned to her fully, and in a voice of calm, he said, “I think it is you who is mistaken, lady. I know you have Law’s best interests in mind, but I _have_ made up my mind. And I’m not changing it.” He stared coldly into her eyes. “What did I say? Corazon is dead.” He reached for his gun and unholstered it, hefting it in his palm. The grip fit snug and familiar in his hand. “Stop me again, and I’ll shoot,” he said, eyeing her sidelong, though he kept the gun grasped by his hip.

Relief and disappointment mingled in him when the lady made no effort to stop him again. He never had any intention to shoot, of course. Putting his gun away, he continued on his way without a glance behind him. Over and over his mind replayed her words, scathing. Was he cowardly for shying from meeting Law? Why couldn’t he bring himself to meet him? Rosinante couldn’t put his finger on an exact answer. There were many, and ultimately, he felt, in his heart, that it shouldn’t happen. He wasn’t sure he could hold back his emotions should such a meeting occur. Besides, Law should move on, put him and the past behind. Did he want to meet Law again? There was no denying the question produced an instantaneous answer: Yes. Yes, and no. It didn’t matter. They’d known each other all of a few years. He just wanted to know that Law was happy, and that was enough.

Would he regret not speaking to Law in person?

Rosinante slowed in his steps, shoulders sagging with a sigh.

In Law’s shoes, what would he want? Of course, he couldn’t anticipate what Law would want. But a decade ago, he’d been around Law’s age. If he’d been made to think Sengoku was dead, and the latter had deserted him for over a decade… Yet that was the whole issue, to begin with. The longer he waited to get in touch with Law, the easier it became to put it off till…never. A year became two years, and the years multiplied in a blink, and by the time a decade had gone by, no matter how the heart ached for reunion, the number of reasons against it stacked up.

And still… And still, instead of heading back to his temporary abode in one of the few self-catering places that accommodated persons of taller heights – which was actually just a house in the woods he’d stumbled upon, owned by a nice older woman who’d let him stay there in exchange for helping her renovate the place, Rosinante found himself arriving at the harbour, the dull yellow of the Polar Tang glinting faintly in the distance under the moonlight. Rosinante stood there, a hundred metres away. Then he ambled over, and paused several feet away, merely observing the vessel, wondering what the hell he was doing there. He approached, pretending to pass it by. He passed it numerous times. He didn’t want to invoke suspicion, so he stopped. He could call out to the guard on duty, say he wanted an audience with their beloved captain, but was this the right or best way to go about it?

Rosinante’s long legs took him to the dock that extended out into the water. He sat down, let his legs dangle over the edge, but his shoes ended up dipping into the water, and he shifted to sit cross-legged. He lit a cigarette, and waited.

* * *

**Lizard**

Law rubbed his face when his Den Den Mushi rang. With a sigh, he lowered his feet off the desk and marked a page in his book. He picked the receiver. "Flea," he guessed - outside his crew only a small handful of people knew this number. The whole crew was onboard and Emil was the only one to use this line so liberly. What was it? Second time in an hour? Was it about this stalker again?

"Hey, Toffee."

Her silly nickname for him - one he let her use because she used it _only_ in private. However her encounter with the stalker had gone exactly, she was fine now.

"He's just outside."

"Oh." Law rose eyebrows and leant back in his chair. "Had he gathered the courage to meet my in person or is he being a creep and hiding in shadows again?" Should he make a point by going out and slicing him up into tiny pieces that he would scatter all over the town for people to search for like chocolate eggs?

"Eh."

Law could imagine Emil shrugging and tilting her head.

"He's not exactly hiding but doesn't seem to be actively trying to get onto Polar Tang either - he's sitting on the dock just beside you and smoking."

Law gave out a dry snort. "Do you want me to go out and give him a lengthy lecture on the dangers of smoking?" If Emil had her way, she would remove all tobacco from the face of the Vearth.

Emil giggled. "I would greatly appreciate this part but I would rather be there when it happens. No. I told him to either leave to never return or go face you in person because otherwise, I'll bring your sexy ass to him. Will you be kind enough to go out, making this call an equivalent of me 'bringing your ass out' or do I have to go there in person?"

Law put his hat on and got up - he low-key wanted to see this stalker himself. "Should I bring Kikoku?"

"Take it. I doubt he will attack you, but I feel like you'll want to slice him up at least a bit."

Law rested Kikoku on his shoulder and - with the Den Den Mushi still in hand - walked outside his room. It was the middle of the night so the corridors were empty and lit up with only emergency lights. "Is he that annoying?"

Emil gave about a long, thoughtful, or rather undecided hum. "I wouldn't say annoying but he might strike the wrong cord or two. 'Might' is the keyword here... Honestly, I'm not sure how you'll react to him. The question is whether you recognise him or not."

"Huh? I've met him before? Was he one of my victims?"

"I'm not sure... I guess you have met him but I've never met the original so he could be an impersonator... He didn't seem to lie to me though."

Law frowned - this was getting weird. Even for Emil. "What are you not telling me, Flea?" Law pushed the main door open and stepped out into the warm night.

She didn't answer. Not straight away. Law paused in his way and stared at the Den Den Mushi in his palm. Seconds that passed felt like minutes.

"I'm sorry, Law." Her voice was quiet, void of any of her usual mirth. "Go see him for yourself. I'll be here, you know how to call me." She hung up.

Law's frown deepened. _Now_ he was worried. _Who_ could it possibly be? Had Dofmalingo broken out of Impel Down? No, Emil knew how he looked like. The same went for all the other surviving members of the Doflamingo's family. Emil would also just tell him to grab a weapon and maybe a few of his crew too if that was the case. Who? Who from his past could it be? Who was someone alive Emil hadn't met?

Flavish Royalty? Law sure wouldn't mind running into them and skinning them alive. _Without_ his powers.

Law pocketed the Den Den Mushi and - one silent and careful step after another - walked over to the railing. If the man hadn't heard him already, back from the door, Law didn't want to draw attention to himself just yet. He wanted to have a good look first.

A mop of light coloured hair came into Law's view. Followed by a spark of light at the end of a cigarette. Black feathers draped around the other's neck and shoulders and down the torso in a form of a coat. Then long and thin legs crossed as he sat on the ground.

The man's clumsiness, when he had tripped over things while following him and Emil around, stopped being weird and became _familiar_ instead.

He couldn't see the signature button-up shirt with heart pattern or weird makeup but _everything_ else was there. Without a doubt. For sure. Unmistakably. _This_ was Corazon.

Anger bubbled within Law's chest.

He unsheathed Kikoku and the next thing Law knew, his Room was out and he reached out to grab the man's heart. The filthy _imposter's_ heart.

"I have to applaud your dedication, Mister Stalker." Law strolled over to the railing. Should he just stab the heart? A fan? What a laughable notion. Then again, Law could be cruel and heartless. If he could be bothered, he _would_ dress up one of his crew to look like someone his victim used to care for. "You have done your research." Oh, how Law wished his words could transform into actual venom. How much he wished this toxin dripped down his lips and onto this cubed heart in his hand, searing into it. Should the imposter make _one_ wrong move, should his muscles twitch in _one_ weird way and Law _would_ squeeze his fingers around the heart. "Now, be so kind and enlighten me, Mister Stalker. You've said so yourself, you've seen what I'm capable of. Give me _one_ reason I should _not_ grab a handful of needles and stab you in the heart, one at a time."

Real? Emil had suggested he _might_ be the real one but... No. Corazon was _dead_. This _had_ to be a fake. This man _had_ to be a fake... The alternative... The alternative was _unbearable_.

* * *

**Lena**

Rosinante had a hunch the little Cookie would inform Law if she sensed his presence around. If not, Law was bound to appear sooner or later. Rosinante would wait; waiting was no problem; hadn’t he waited years? Waiting, or delaying. Delaying, then; waiting, now.

As the seconds stretched on into the night, niggling doubts circulated in his mind, determined to spur him to his feet and drive him away, but he parked his ass on that dock, finishing one cigarette after another.

Rosinante flicked a cigarette butt into the dark waters. He pulled another out from the pack, placed it between his lips, and struck a match. He studied the flickering flame for a moment, until the wind extinguished it. He tossed the match, struck another, and brought the flame to the tip of his cigarette, when he felt an aura of menace overriding the air of calm. Rosinante didn’t turn his head, didn’t so much as flinch, knowing he had company. Never having experienced Law’s Room, he was none the wiser. Then he felt a thump against his chest, and glancing down, saw the cube-shaped gaping hollowness where his heart had been languishing… Rather than fear or perturbation, surprise lifted Rosinante’s brows, and his lips twitched with a trace of amusement. How nice of Law to give him a taste of his infamous heart-stealing.

Rosinante puffed on his cigarette nonchalantly even as Law’s voice called out to him. Despite the contemptuous words, Rosinante wondered if that was a tincture of uncertainty in Law’s tone. Under all circumstances, it would be better for Law to think him an impostor, except Rosinante questioned the likelihood of his immediate mortality should he not convince otherwise. And even if Law should spare him, it would be a great inconvenience to have his severed head attached to some cow or inanimate object.

His calm and composure never abandoned him as Rosinante sat there, appearing to ignore Law for seconds, a minute, however long Law would allow him before making a move. Rosinante plucked the cigarette from his lips and looked sidelong at Law. What ought he to do? Paint on the silliest smile? Attempt to convince Law not to kill him? Rosinante’s eyes travel over Law’s almighty sword, unsheathed, and he turned away to gaze down at the sea as he tried to suppress a smile. What happened to the promise of needles?

“…You carry knitting needles around?” Rosinante asked, in a low voice. “I got a big hole in my underpants. Don’t know how it got there, but it needs patching up.” Perhaps Law would kill him for good now, but he couldn’t resist. Rosinante’s shoulders slumped and he chucked his unfinished cigarette. “It’s just like you, you know, to go around stabbing people and their organs with knives and…needles now?” He curled his lips in feigned disappointment. Then he turned around to sit facing Law. “What do you think?” he asked, eyeing his heart in Law’s possession. “It’s a stubborn heart that refuses to expire…though it’s no match to the wilfulness of yours, I’ll bet.” He pulled a tired smile, and, impulsively, surprising himself, he activated his soundproof barrier. The invisible dome expanded inch by inch, consuming the surrounding noises; as it grew, muting the crashing of the waves, the whistling of the wind, until the silence, loud in its presence, encompassed them.

"...Go ahead," Rosinante murmured, "Law."

* * *

**Lizard**

Law took a step back, watching the familiar dome grow and spread and engulf him. His heart sank as silence enveloped him - all he heard was the man's quiet voice calling his name. No seagulls, no wind, no waves, only this soft voice and his own heart pounding in his ears.

Corazon was alive.

That was _impossible_.

Yet...

No...

Law locked his eyes on the man once again, studying him head to toe. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fingers around the sword grip. He couldn't believe that. He didn't _want_ to believe that. Yet... The longer he stared at this man, the tighter a vice-like grip on his stomach grew.

He wanted to scream.

"WHY?!" Law's roar pulled him leaning over the railing. "Why did you-" He cut himself off and clenched his teeth. His fingers twitched to curl around this man's neck and make sure this _image_ fitted the _lie_ he apparently had been following for _years_.

Law gasped and took in a shaky breath. First. Second. He lifted his hands, tried to make them stop shaking. They didn't listen. With another deep breath, Law extended his Room and found Caramel. Next second, he was on Emil's bed, replacing himself with one of her pillows. He grabbed the first thing on her bedside table - a mug - and chucked it through an open doorway into her dark living space. The man that looked like Corazon appeared there before the mug could smash on the floor.

"Sorry for the mug," Law spoke in a dry tone - it certainly laid in pieces on the dock now. He swung his legs off the bed and lobbed the cubed heart to Emil. "Poke it with something if he makes anything off." Law had no idea if he _himself_ would be able to damage the heart. As much as he _wanted_ to squeeze it, he couldn't. His shaky fingers had squeezed on the hilt of his sword but _not_ on the heart. Speaking about... Law turned on the lights in Emil's bedroom and tugged two paper tissues out of a box and swapped each with Kikoku and the sheath - he had dropped them onto the deck before teleporting.

"Do you want a drink?" Emil got up from her bed and walked over him, Corazon's heart beating in her hand.

"Yeah." Law nodded between deep breaths. How? Just how was he supposed to _deal_ with that? He wanted to scream and cry and hug him and punch him and bang his own head against a wall and smile and it _all_ just _whirled_ in his head and... How? Why? "Give me a moment." He wobbled over to Emil's bathroom, closed the door behind himself and turned on the water and stuck his head under the cold stream. Would it help? Probably not. Law low key had hoped it would wake him up from this _dream_ but no. As cold water poured onto his nape, he stared at the drain and wondered whether this pressure in his stomach would, or would not cause vomiting.

~ * ~

Emil looked at the closed door to her bathroom for a second, sighed and walked into the living room. She walked past Corazon without paying him much heed, even if he _did_ look out of the place inside Caramel. Still, she turned on the lights for him before pausing at the staircase leading down to the storage room. "Oh, by the way-" Emil held up the heart- "just so you're aware how rubbish this is." She gave the heart a _brief_ squeeze. Her fingers _barely_ tightened around it. She just wanted Corazon to extrapolate and _fear_ the agony she could cause him. Law might hesitate, but she wouldn't.

After grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the storage, Emil returned to the kitchen - once again ignoring Corazon - and took out three glasses. She put one on the table next to Corazon, took the second to sip from while she sat on her couch, and the third one waited on the counter by the bedroom door for Law to grab.

* * *

**Lena**

In the dome of silence, Law’s roar of raw resentment and hurt was magnified, and Rosinante winced. He didn’t look at Law, though he could imagine the fact of his existence sinking in while anger rose in Law. Anger, understandable, predictable anger; anger, he had expected. Anger, better than tears.

Why? Why did he? He had no good answers Law deserved.

This was exactly why he shouldn’t have come, should’ve walked away, should’ve just left. A selfish decision, reintroducing himself into Law’s life, and to think part of him had foolishly anticipated warmth and acknowledgement.

Rosinante glanced back, but Law had disappeared. He stared perplexed at the plump pillow that rested in Law’s place, Law’s sword and sheath beside it. Rosinante blinked, and the cloudy night sky and dark waters of the sea disappeared, the scenery replaced by vague shapes of what looked like furniture sitting in the dark of a room. Rosinante stumbled a few steps and knocked his thigh against the side of a table. As his vision adjusted to the darkness, he heard Law’s voice drifting over from nearby, though he couldn’t make out the words. The girl’s voice followed. Were they in her place? He figured Law’s Room had something to do with their…strange means of transportation. Given that they were in the harbour, it was logical to conclude they ought to be in another vessel. Would Law have invited him into the Polar Tang? Likely not, after that small outburst. Still, he couldn’t explain why Law had brought him there.

Rosinante felt around the furniture and eased himself down onto the couch. Law would appear when he wanted to appear. Searching for him before that was simply inviting further tension. Thus, Rosinante was merely sitting in the dark, when he heard footsteps. The lights flickered on a moment later. He gave her a cursory glance, noticed her dismissive air. Her disdain was not surprising. He tried to make himself comfortable, but clearly, the furniture was for dwarfs – or just not built to accommodate his stature, and his knees reached higher than the table. He glanced up when she spoke, and brief confusion passed over his face before he felt his chest clench tightly and he gasped, his hand grasping the edge of the table as he doubled up in pain. Rubbish indeed. Definitely unexpected, even if he was sure she went easy on him, for he recovered from the blow quickly enough. Was that a warning? What for? Did they think he would leave without his heart? Perhaps he would. The urge to leave was compelling. Yet, he’d already come this far, and so he sat there, the most obedient guest until she returned with…whiskey?

Some hospitality this was, or was it customary to torture one’s guest to kick off the evening before offering them a drink, where she was from? Wherever was she from, he wondered. He sighed, stared at his glass of whiskey, stared hard, and then he reached for it, after all, and took a swig, needing all the liquid courage for the awkward and difficult conversation bound to ensue. They waited for Law for a moment without Rosinante speaking up. There wasn’t much he could think to say. He could compliment her on her choice of whiskey, but small talk seemed inappropriate given the mood. Rosinante took off his coat and set it down beside him. He reached for his smokes, then shoved the pack back into his pocket, recalling her intense hatred of the stench. He tipped his glass to his lips and emptied its contents instead. With his size, it took well more than a glass to render him dead drunk. He set the glass down.

“Tonight has been a series of bad decisions, one after another,” he said ruefully, then he shrugged. “Replace ‘tonight’ with ‘life’.” He glanced up at her. “Why don’t you check that he hasn’t passed out in there?”

It was at that moment that Rosinante detected Law’s presence, and Rosinante’s eyes tracked Law as he entered the living space and sat beside Emil. He noticed Law’s head was drenched, though his clothes didn’t appear to be. He would’ve offered Law a towel, but he had only his fur coat, so all he did was stare at Law, glance at his glass, which he refilled, then he stared at Law again. If Law was willing to sit in the same room, it must mean his anger had subsided, he thought.

There was no way around it, so Rosi went straight to the point: “You were saying something earlier. I didn’t hear the last of your words, before you disappeared.”

* * *

**Lizard**

Corazon was alive.

A droplet formed at the end of his nose and fell into the sink as Law stared at his reflection. He looked ever worse than usual. As if he had just woken up after a night of heavy drinking. Well, _that_ was probably in front of him.

Corazon had been alive for the past thirteen years.

Law leant forward and rested his forehead against the mirror, closing his eyes.

Would he have chased Doflamingo, if he had known Corazon was live?

Probably.

Yes.

Doflamingo had had it coming.

Law just... wouldn't have been so _eager_ to risk everything.

Law turned off the water and was about to leave the bathroom but... He opened the mirror cabinet and took out the first aid kit. Emil would _love_ the idea of poking Corazon's heart with a needle, wouldn't she?

He heard Corazon's question as he walked out of the bedroom. Corazon sat on a couch on one side of the living space, asking a stupid question. Emil sat on a couch on the opposite side, gracing the question with only a roll of her eyes. She _really_ disliked him, didn't she? If she didn't even want to joke with him.

Law grabbed his drink and sat on the couch beside Emil, opposite to Corazon. With a long sigh, he rested his head back, closing his eyes. He took a sip when Corazon asked him another stupid question.

Emil shifted and pressed her foot against his thigh - a gentle reminder she was there. She was, while the man Law had been willing to forfeit his life for... hadn't.

"Here." Law lifted his hand, revealing two needless he had grabbed from the bathroom. "I told him I might poke needless into his hear but I guess his ass would be an appropriate target too - he _did_ say his underpants need patching.

As Emil - with a giggle - took the needles, Law eyed Corazon once more. In the bright light of Caramel, there was no doubt: this man looked like his memory of Corazon. Roughly a decade older version of him and without the makeup but... What would it take to find the Calm Calm Fruit and then make its user look like Corazon? What for? Just to mess with Law? He could think of _one_ person who would go at such stupid lengths just to piss of Law but this person was in the Impel Down.

"I haven't even finished what I was saying back there anyway." He took another sip - alcohol warmed him up a bit, contrasting with the coldness of water dripping off his hair and onto his shoulders. Emil's couch probably too. He managed to keep his voice cool but his hand still twitched. It was a slight twitch but for someone with a steady hand of a world-class surgeon, it was unacceptable. "What I was _going_ to ask about-" Law looked Corazon in the face. As much as he wanted to look anywhere _but_ his face, he forced himself to look exactly there. To search for any weird twitches, any signs that - after all - it _might_ be all just a costume. An act. "Is, why - in the world - did you think it was a _good_ idea to let me believe you were _dead_? I thought I _killed_ you! Have I _not_ turned to _Vergo_ \- out of all people - you would have survived! _We_ would have gotten away and _I_ wouldn't have lost everything I had _again_!" Breathing in and out, he fell back onto the backrest - he hadn't even realised he leaned forward or raised his voice. He tapped his fingers over his glass before downing it in one go. "You could have shown up thirteen years ago. Ten. Eight. Five. Hell, even _two_ years ago would have been great BUT..." He bit his lip, dropping his shoulders.

Emil shifted her foot over his thigh.

As much as the idea of burying his face into her chest and hiding from the world was immensely tempting, he... He had to deal with _that_ first.

"Why only now?"

* * *

**Lena**

The hostility in the air could not have been thicker, though it wasn’t heart-wrenching in the slightest. Heart-wrenching was the sour look on Law’s face, his drenched mop of hair, the pain in his eyes. Rosinante couldn’t imagine what must be going through his mind. Still, despite his initial humming and hawing, he had no regrets; he doubted he could go in peace to his grave had he never got to speak to Law again.

Rosinante’s brows lifted when he glimpsed the needles Law handed his woman. The silly kids. Law was serious? Did they intend to threaten him? Somebody had to teach them proper manners and hospitality etiquette. Rosinante found himself inclined to amusement in spite of it all. He settled back against the couch, projecting an insouciant demeanour. If it appeased Law to stab his heart (though Rosinante doubted Law would do it; no, he would let his lady do it, if it came that), then so be it. Rosinante hated to boast, but he was confident he could take any kind of physical pain; anything, that could numb the emotional pain nursed over the years.

Rosinante’s gaze drifted to Law’s hands as Law spoke, the edge in his voice bringing sadness to Rosinante’s eyes. He couldn’t help noticing the slight twitching of Law’s fingers, the DEATH tattooed over them, which saddened him all the more. Law had witnessed more death and carnage than a young man of his age ought to ever witness in a whole lifetime, but to tattoo it on his fingers, to glance at it every morning, every night – what message did he derive from it? Rosinante couldn’t imagine torturing himself with such a daily reminder.

There and then, however, as he met Law’s eyes, Rosinante was an embodiment of calm. It wasn’t an unemotional or cold calmness he exuded, but a calmness of acceptance, warmth mingling with regret in his gaze. He wanted to take Law’s smaller hand in his own; he wanted to put his hand on Law’s shoulder; he wanted to put his arms around Law once more, squeeze the hurt out of every pore on his skin. Shake him hard and chide him for embarking on such a self-destructive path, and was it for him? Rosinante would like to believe it wasn’t, and yet, the name of Law’s crew, the Heart Pirates, that couldn’t be a mere coincidence.

Rosinante exhaled quietly, and gave a sad smile, staring into his empty glass. “Why would you think that, that you killed me?” Rosinante never blamed Law, though it figured that Law would blame himself; Rosinante would never have wanted that, had always hoped he would move on. He had been freed, yet it seemed one did not escape the shackles of their past. In Law’s voice, Rosinante could sense the disappointment, the hurt; he knew, he had promised Law, they would sail away together, once he was cured. An empty promise; an idealistic dream. What was Rosinante to say? You had to lose everything so you could find something more worthwhile? You lost nothing; I was never meant to be more than a temporary guide, and even at that, it appeared I’d failed.

Rosinante cleared his throat. “I’ve never once thought of what happened as a result of your doing. Vergo would’ve turned up whether you found him or not. He would’ve found us. It was bad luck, that’s all. You were going for help.” He stared down at his hands closed into fists. He remembered that day, plainly as though it was a week ago. It was the first time he’d felt some strong sense of achievement, of pride. He would not have done a thing differently.

“The simple answer? I fulfilled my purpose, I moved on,” Rosinante added, only realising a second later the harshness of his words. But he would not make excuses for himself. He would not say that circumstances prevented him from reaching out sooner, because that would be a half-lie, half-truth. As for why not… “Why not?” If he said it was a mere coincidence they met again, he would bet Law, or his lady, would turn his heart into a pincushion. “It doesn’t matter. We would’ve had this same conversation, had I turned up 2 years ago, 5 years ago, wouldn’t we?” He reached for his coat and draped it over his lap, enveloping his hands in the fur.

_I didn’t think it was a good idea to keep you in the dark. I won’t say I had no choice in the matter, but I believed… I believed I was keeping you safe. I couldn’t have the Marines finding you, with the devil fruit power you were bestowed, with your animosity towards the World Government, who knows what would’ve happened?_

“It was better for you to think I was dead,” Rosinante said, instead. “Had I told you I was alive five, ten years ago, would you have accepted that, without any proof other than my word? Without us meeting face to face? Do you think things would be that different?” He let out a frustrated sigh, and mumbled, “I couldn’t meet you then. I shouldn’t meet you now.” And then… “This was a coincidence, this…reunion. You can call it fate, or whatever you like. I expect you won’t be happy with my answers.” He picked up his glass, then he set it down, and pushed his coat aside, fixing Law a hardened look. “Go on. If you need an outlet, let’s take it outside.”

* * *

**Lizard**

Law faced Emil.

She - in her sitting sidewise on the couch position - looked up at him and shrugged.

Law's heart sunk even lower, through maybe it was just him slumping more on the couch. Or both. He had hoped she would exclaim Cora lied in their faces and stick a needle into his heart but no... Granted, her lie detection was _very_ limited and she could pick on only on strong lies yet... Law lifted his gaze to Cora. There was still a chance it was a lie. Cora could have simply used his powers to mask his lie. 

Law gave out a dry snort - hack then, he hadn't even thought the Calm Calm fruit could have been used to mask lies.

Without looking, he reached to the side and took Emil's glass. Or maybe she moved her hand so he could grab it? It didn't matter. Silly, really. He had tried to convince her that the death of her family wasn't her fault yet here he was, unconvinced that Cora's death _wasn't_ his fault even when Cora _himself_ tells him otherwise. Yes, Vergo might have found them anyway but if Law hadn't handed him the letter, Vergo wouldn't have known about Cora's treason. He would have no reason to think Cora had betrayed Doflamingo. He would have no reason to beat them up and no reason to not help them out. Marine or not, they could claim Vergo was simply the first person a desperate child found. There was no reason to argue over that, was there? If Law's experience had taught him anything it was that _if_ such a matter could be resolved, it would _not_ be over one night.

Law took a sip of Emil's whiskey when Bor fluttered through the open doorway. With his lips on the glass, he watched the little sparrow land on the table in front of Cora, beside the grain bowl. There, Bor tilted his head back and forth, eyeing everyone gathered. No wonder, the bird was confused.

He was a welcome distraction, for sure. A break in the heavy and gloomy air around them.

He jumped off the table and - transforming into his human-sized form - landed on the couch beside Law, on the opposite side than Emil.

Law rose his eyebrows at that. That was... unexpected. Bor usually avoided transforming in front of strangers. Keeping the element of surprise should he need it. Had he already transformed in front of Cora?

"Law," Bor cawed, pressing his head against Law's shoulder. He shifted and sat down, his warm chest pressing against Law's leg. "Law sad." He added, resting his head on Law's knee.

Law breathed out and dipped his fingers into the soft feathers on Bor's head - a talking crow and sparrow hybrid that behaved more like a dog.

On the other side, Emil stood up and - without a word but Cora's heart still in hand - walked into her bedroom only to return moment later with a towel. She put it on Law's head and gave it a slight rub before pushing it down, hanging it around Law's neck and shoulders. When she sat back down, it was with her back against Law's side, not the armrest like before.

There was a moment of silence and Law sighed - he guessed distractions were over. It was time to get the gutwrenching topic at hand. He took another sip of the whiskey. "Why take it outside?" he mumbled, looking down at his hand. He opened and closed his fist a few times. His fingers were steadier now but there _still_ was a slight shake in them. He still hoped it was all just a bad dream. "Do you think punching you in the face would make me feel better?" His voice was clearer now and he dared to look up at Cora's face, _somewhat_ sure he wouldn't burst into tears. If this meeting had taken place a few years back, he probably would have cried like a child, clinging to Cora's side. "If I thought watching you in pain could help me, I would have asked Flea to have a go at you instead." Speaking about - Law turned his head to Emil. "You still have manacles, don't you?"

With a quiet, wicked, giggle she shifted, leaned over the armrest and opened a low drawer beside the couch. There was a dull clank and - when she returned to her position against Law's side - there were dark manacles with a long chain in her hands. Seastone. Should she clasp them on Cora's hands, it would render him useless. Or Law's or Bor's for that matter. Emil coiled them on her lap and balanced Cora's heart on top of it. Her opponent would have to be _immensely_ fast or pain resistant to stop her from clenching her hands on their heart and then clasping those manacles on their wrists.

Law shrugged. He _didn't_ want to hurt Cora but... He wanted to make sure Cora wouldn't leave. Asking _probably_ would be enough but... Okay, maybe some part of Law wanted to stick a needle through Cora's heart. Couldn't have contacted his ass. Better Law hadn't known bullshit. "You could have written a letter. Anything. I would be _happy_ to have _hope,_ not _guilt_." Was he bitter? Yes. If he was to believe Cora's words, he had simply developed a Stockholm Syndrome and Cora had never cared for him. "Why was it _better_ for me to not know? What was the _worst_ that could have happened? Die?" He snorted. "Have you seen the news about what had happened in Dressrosa? Become a Marine? Funny you ask, I have _considered_ that. Cure the disease from inside. I might have decided to do that if I had a high ranking officer" -he waved at Cora- "backing me up. If a sour puss like Smoker can be a revered Marine, why couldn't I? They would try to manipulate me to use my fruit? So be it! I would manipulate them back. I would surround myself with more Marines I could trust. Maybe I would have a crew like mine too. Maybe some of this crew ended up being the same people?" He paused and leaned back. He had done that again - leant forward in his seat and rose his voice. At least not as much as the first time.

"Enlighten me," his voice was calm and collected now, "why was it _better_ I didn't know?"

* * *

**Lena**

Rosinante’s gaze flitted from the sparrow-crow to the seastone manacles and he raised his brows. He’d seen similar pairs over the course of his enlistment in the Marines, though he had never had the pleasure of testing them out himself. It seemed he would get lucky that night. He wasn’t going to ask how she’d acquired them. For a brief second, his mind wandered and he wondered if she’d ever used them on Law, then hastily, he aborted that line of thought. He looked between Cookie, Law, the weird birdie, and the manacles, and his perplexity only surged. Ah, it would seem they were treating him like a prisoner, but first the threat of stabbing his heart with needles, and now of bondage? Rosinante stared at Cookie, and then at Law. Had Law turned into some bitter sadist after all the trauma he suffered? Other than his confusion, Rosinante appeared otherwise unfazed. He decided he wouldn’t be surprised if Cookie whipped out a machinegun next.

Rosinante sat through Law’s outpourings without flinching, his expression merely grim, his eyes staring a little dazedly at the bird that nestled against Law’s lap. Guilt gnawed at him, for causing Law guilt, and further despair. Rosinante was quiet after Law finished. He pulled out his pack of smokes and slid a cigarette out, replaced the now-empty pack into his pocket. He kept the cigarette unlit, rolling it between his thumb and finger.

_You know about the will of the D and the Celestial Dragons, right? Remember, what I told you, back then-_

“Law, I don’t have answers you want,” Rosinante said quietly, staring down at his hand. “I didn’t reach out because I didn’t want to. I abandoned you, Law,” he added, meeting Law’s eyes with a hardened look. “I kidnapped you, because I was an idiot. I thought I could save you, and by saving you, maybe I could…” He flattened the cigarette, and then he crushed it, clenching his fist over it. “And every night, when we were travelling, I questioned if I was making a big mistake. Every hospital that turned you away, I burned in rage, but also in despair. But by then, there was no going back. I…I did want you to be saved, but I could just as well have gotten you killed.” He drew in a deep breath, his gaze turning pensive. “In the end, did I…?” Rosinante’s brows puckered and he gave Law a doleful look. Law didn’t know, the number of letters Rosinante had written and burned, the single letter he’d kept unsent.

“I just wanted you to have a normal life, not one mixed up in all this,” Rosinante said. “And hope? Come on. I could not have given you hope. You needed to find hope on your own…” He swallowed, and his voice was grim as he continued, “You’re just going to have to accept that I don’t have an answer. What is it exactly you want to hear? I had good reasons for keeping away? I was not ready to care for a child. Whatever you thought of me, I was just a kidnapper. I forced this life on you, and then I walked away.” He helped himself to the whiskey bottle and refilled his glass, his hand losing its steadiness. The liquid sloshed in his glass. He set the bottle down with a thud.

“Now, let me ask, what do you intend to do here? You’re going to take me prisoner?” he scoffed. “Are the roles reversed now? I tied you up, dragged you onto a boat, so now you’ll have me cuffed while you exact revenge with your pins and needles?” Rosinante let out a dry laugh. Already he knew he would regret every single word. It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Why?

Why did he never write, never call?

_Because I loved you; so I let you go._

* * *

**Lizard**

Law closed his eyes and - for the millionth time this night - clenched his teeth.

Cora's words made it clear - had had never grown attached to Law. He had always viewed him as just another mission. Another project, to be discarded and forgotten when completed. Or a whim of a reckless man who enjoyed toying with danger. Play with fire. His death... What _seemed_ to be his death, was only a bad outcome of a risk he had been willing to take out of... Professional reasons... Why had he _wanted_ Law to have a normal life though? If it all was _strictly_ professional, why not bring Law to Marines? If it was all just business, why not utilise this great asset? Law would have followed Cora to Marines and be fine in the role of a student. Cora might have not been ready to care for a child but no one had expected this from him. Law hadn't. He would have been happy to have a mentor, no matter how silly or goofy he happened to be.

Then, there were Cora's gestures. Dropped head. Fidgeting with the cigarette. Shaking hands. Cora seemed nervous at best and shaken at worst. He was either scared of the possibility of Emil digging her fingers into his heart or his own words - recalling of their past - _were_ affecting him. What's that for a 'professional'?

He felt like pressing his face into a pillow and screaming till his lungs hurt. He didn't know what to do. What to think. One side of him reasoned to let it go, return Cora's heart and part ways to never meet again. Another side of him urged him to run into Cora's arms and hug him, no matter if Cora would hug him back or try to kick him away. Another, luckily smallest, part of him howled for blood and revenge and demanded Law tortured Cora till he begged for forgiveness.

Law tapped onto his glass with his middle finger.

He breathed out and opened his eyes, once against looking into Cora's eyes.

Law tapped the glass with his middle finger again.

"No, you're not a prisoner," he spoke in a quiet tone, sounding more tired than sad to himself.

The third time, he tapped the glass.

Law turned, picked the heart from Emil's lap and tossed it to Cora. "It will morph in without a trace if you just slide it in."

To no surprise - he had asked for it, after all - Emil leant in and kissed his cheek. She shifted, climbed on his lap, straddling him and wrapped arms around his neck pressing her body against his. He had needed a hug and she provided.

Law looked Corazon up and down before resting his chin on Emil's shoulder. "Go. Neither of us is going to stop you... Just know..." Law swallowed and rested his head against Emil. Should he continue? Should he say it? Wouldn't it be better to let go and _pretend_ this night had never happened? "Next time..." Wasn't a 'next time' a stupid idea? "Let's just sit over dinner or a drink..." Law lifted his glass. "And just exchange stories what we've been up to... No stolen hearts, or pins."

Because he wasn't ready to let go just yet.

* * *

**Lena**

Anticipating Law’s reaction – anger, Rosinante expected anger, more hostility, dismissal; it would hurt them both, but it was better this way – Rosinante sat there, fingers fiddling with the fur of his coat. But the outburst did not come. Instead, appearing composed, but also dispirited (to Rosi), Law tossed his heart back. Rosinante caught it. He stared at his throbbing heart, then placed it to the hollow in his chest. It plopped right back in, yet Rosinante felt no different. Still, his chest ached; he kept his hand over his heart for a second.

Rosinante had noticed Law’s tapping on the glass, followed by Cookie’s kiss and embrace. For her presence, he was grateful; he was glad Law had her to comfort him, though it surprised him that Law let himself be hugged in front of him. Then again, it had been quite the distressing reunion. Rosinante respectfully averted his gaze to the door, already feeling like he was being invasive.

Law’s words… Next time? Dinner or drink? Rosinante clamped his lips together, lowering his eyes to his lap. He blinked repeatedly and clenched his coat in his fists, his lip quivering as he bit down on it. Relief swelled in his chest. He swallowed a thick lump in his throat and pulled a soft smile, though it vanished within a heartbeat. He never wished more for his sunglasses. He had to leave. He lifted his glass too, to Law, though he set it back down without taking a drink. He gathered his coat, pushed to his feet, and his shoes padded over and paused, lingering beside Law. Rosinante reached out, put his larger hand on Law’s head, his hand nestling there a second or two, then he gave Law’s head a little tender push before retracting his hand. After a beat of hesitation, he tossed his coat over Law and Cookie.

“Give it back…the next time we meet,” Rosinante said. He walked slowly to the door. A tear rolled down his cheek just as he stepped off the Caramel. He passed the yellow submarine on his way, and paused to glance at it. Then he disappeared quietly into the night.

\-----

May, the nice old lady whose house Rosinante was helping to renovate, had been nagging him a while to try out one of the restaurants in town, and what better day for a lovely outing than the day after Rosinante almost had his heart broken again? May had noticed a certain glumness in Rosinante’s spirit since the morning when he awoke and requested several servings of her homemade hangover remedies. May was convinced that a little date would soothe his soul and ail his heartache – he assured her that no, it wasn’t like that, really. He reminded her that he didn’t have a date, a girlfriend, or the intention to obtain one, and she told him that was all baloney, because she had already made them a reservation. Well, then, better not let old granny down, lest her heart could not take the rejection. Thus, Rosinante, putting his face in his hand, acquiesced, to her delighted beaming and a slap of her hand on his lower back. Rosinante had one condition: they would arrive later in the evening, when it ought to be less crowded. She agreed. She didn’t want to cook daily, she said. It was too much work.

That was how Rosinante found himself in the cosy restaurant, the name of which he didn’t bother noticing, with May, a petite old lady in her seventies, though she still ran like she was seventeen, and her head of curly white hair was done in two long pigtails. She wore a long black skirt and a beige chiffon blouse, with large pearls dangling from her ears. Large rings adorned her bony fingers. She was half his height, and heads had turned to give them looks as they passed through town together. May gave the waitress a pleasant smile as she brought them menus. It was then, upon glancing at the menu’s cover page, reading the words ‘BEST NORTH BLUE CUISINE IN TOWN’, that Rosinante felt a twinge of foreboding. May chattered on, oblivious, recommending him several dishes. He’d made the mistake of telling her he’d once lived in North Blue, and she said he would miss the food. Rosinante let May take care of the ordering, nodding his head politely to whatever she suggested. He set down the menu, though before the waitress could take it away, Rosinante’s eyes widened, and he snatched the menu and held it up to his face, pretending to study it intently. Slowly, he lowered it enough to peep over the edge, peering out from behind it at the entrance of the restaurant.

Rosinante blanched. What the hell, fate? What was this coincidence? He had gone 13 years without seeing Law once, and now their paths were colliding multiple days in a row (including the days Rosi had been stalking Law and Cookie). How would he explain the date with May? He couldn’t. It was just as well. Law already thought him an asshole, might as well have ‘creep’ and ‘gerontophile’ permanently attached to his name. Rosinante kept his face behind the menu, nevertheless, hoping Law and Cookie would just...just pretend he was dead. 

* * *

**Lizard**

"This coat stinks."

"I know."

"Can I push it off?"

"No."

~ * ~

"It's here, I think. The Northern Narval." Law read out the name of the restaurant and turned to open the door.

Emil grabbed his sleeve. "Wait."

Law turned and frowned at her. Why was she stopping him? Why did she look like she was about to burst out laughing?

She lifted her hand and pointed at the window. " _This_ is the restaurant we are going to?"

"Unless there's another Northern Narval in this town, yes." Cheri had shared the name of this restaurant at least three times the day before and five more that very noon, when Law finally returned to Polar Tang - when he was sure he didn't _look_ like he cried the whole night anymore.

She lost it. She burst out laughing. Clutching her stomach, she doubled over and chortled till her eyes teared up. Then she proceeded to massage her cheeks while still howling - pulling the attention of everyone around.

The louder she got the more deadpan Law's expression was; he was used to that already. "So?" He asked eventually, with his hand still on the door handle. "Why are you..." Oh... He closed his eyes and let go of a long sigh. "He's in _here,_ isn't he?" The hilarity of the universe. The _cruelty_ of the universe. Through the doot window, Law scanned the interior. Sure enough, there he was, a large man with a blonde mess of hair, attempting in vain to hide behind a menu.

Law swallowed and tightened his grip on the door handle but didn't pull it. Should he enter? Should he leave? Was he even ready to face Cora just yet? How should he even behave? Not counting the yesterday, the last time they had interacted, Law was a child. He was an adult man now. He didn't go and hug people. He didn't laugh out loud. He didn't cheer. _Neither_ of them was ready for this meeting but the cruel fates apparently found it amusing to make them meet anyway.

"Okay, come on in." Emil pushed beside Law, swung the door open and pulled him in. While she chatted with a waitress to get their reserved seat, Law just stared at Cora. Vaguely, he caught a question about his nodachi but a nudge from Emil and a cold stare at the waitress was all required to settle that - Kikoku stayed.

The waitress stepped in between the tables, leading them to theirs and each step combined with Emil's giggling only made Law fear what was about to come - there was an empty table right next to the one Rosi sat at with an old lady Law had never seen before. Sure enough, the waitress lead them _exactly_ there.

Law looked down at Emil.

She looked up at him with one of her widest grins.

"I hate you."

She giggled. "I know." She sat on a seat closer to the old lady. "Hello~ I have to say I love your hairstyle. It looks lovely on you. Do you dine here often? It's our first time here. Do you have any recommendations?"

While Emil continued to chat up the lady, possibly just making their interactions inevitable or pulling her attention away from the other two, Law leant Kikoku against the wall and took the other seat. He picked his menu and flipped it open. "I did _not_ expect to meet this soon." Who would have? Unless Cora had researched all North Blue cuisine serving restaurants in the city and spent the whole day waiting for them to show up - he had heard they would be coming over after all - there was no way anyone could have predicted it. "Pardon the fact I'm unprepared, I'm afraid your coat is still on Flea's ship." He closed his eyes, sighed for the millionth time and looked to the side, at Cora. A small smile _might_ have crept on his lips. A tiny one though. "It's nice to see you again, Cora."

* * *

**Lena**

With his face buried in the menu, Rosinante stared hard at the picture of the bread pudding, pretending he was oblivious to Law and Cookie’s entrance.

May, who had her back to the door, leaned forward and gave him a concerned look. “Yes, Rube? You want something else?” She pulled the menu down, peered over, and saw that it was open to the bread dishes. “You want some bread? We already have pasta and potatoes.”

From the corner of his eye, Rosinante glimpsed the waitress leading Law and Cookie towards them. He glanced around the restaurant. There were a few empty tables scattered about, but of course, the waitress had to pick the one beside theirs.

“Rube?” May prompted, frowning at the dumbfounded look on Rosinante’s face. At first, she worried he had had a stroke, then she followed his gaze to the young couple, and she smiled. Her eyes passed over the sword, and while her brows rose, she paid it no more mind. Her face brightened at the compliment, and she cooed, “Why, aren’t you a dear. Thank you, sweetie.” She looked over the two, and nodded. “The boss and I go a long way back,” she said, reaching out to take Emil’s hand. “You both couldn’t have picked a better restaurant for a date. Come, sit, sit, I’ll tell you what’s good.” Plucking the menu from Rosinante’s loose hands, May flipped it to a few sections and pointed out several recommendations.

Through it all, Rosinante gawked at Law. The small smile – just a flicker, but nonetheless, it buoyed his spirits, and Rosinante gave a smile that was just a little bigger. Cora: While he didn’t go by that name anymore, for Law, he would allow it, always. Putting on a solemn face, Rosinante arched his brows teasingly. “What’s this, you’re being awfully polite and formal.” He frowned and looked Law up and down. “What’s wrong with you? Are you really Law?” ‘Pardon’, and ‘I’m afraid’, and ‘nice to see you again’? Was Law broken? Had Law been thirteen, Rosinante would’ve reached out, removed his hat, and tousled his hair. “Does this mean I’m about to die?” Yeah, the last time he called him Cora-san, things eventually did not turn out well.

May turned to them. “Friend of yours, Rube?”

Rosinante looked down at his hands and sighed. “Relic from my past.”

May’s face creased with wrinkles as she chuckled. “Oh, how delightful. Not a son?”

Rosinante’s eyes rolled slowly towards Law, then darted away from him. “I’m not that old, you know.”

Confusion flashed in May’s eyes, then she perked up with an idea. “Why don’t we join tables and sit together?” May rubbed her hands and rose to her feet. Both Rosinante and the waitress observed her with uncertainty as she carried their table and moved it towards Emil and Law’s. Rosinante was left sitting on his chair without a table, his hands suspended mid-air.

“So, is this what you young people like to call a double date?” May asked.

Rosinante cleared his throat. “We should let the young people be, May. They would not like their date interrupted…would they?” Still seated on his chair like a diner stranded without a table, Rosinante glanced up at Law and narrowed his eyes.

* * *

**Lizard**

Law's eyebrows knitted closer as he gave Cora a cold stare... On second thought, he guessed it _was_ a valid comment. Back as a thirteen-year-old, Law was a loud kid with a filthy mouth. Yesterday wasn't much better either. If that's all Cora experienced, no wonder polite and formal rung off to him.

While Emil and miss May - if he had caught her name correctly - shifted their tables closer, each delighted at the prospect of a double date, Law simply lifted his hands from the table and waited for the rearrangement to be completed. With Flea as a friend, one is bound to get used to such random acts of ridiculousness and just roll with them.

Once the tables were in their new locations and cutlery and napkin holders readjusted, Law shifted his chair closer.

"While Rube is not old enough to be my father, he certainly does-" Law looked Cora straight in the face, not a single muscle on his own twitching "- _look_ like he might be. Though I suspect the mother would have to be breathtakingly _gorgeous_ to balance his genes out." Law still enjoyed being rude. Just not shouty and sweary kind. Law looked at the woman and tilted his head a tiny bit, regarding her features. She looked like just another old, kind lady. _Maybe_ she was pretty in her youth. "Like yourself."

With a giggle, Emil handed Law a menu. She had fun, didn't she? Making people uncomfortable and watching them squirm was one of her favourite pastimes. And people call _him_ a sadist. Well... Law glanced at Cora. He was guilty of enjoying that too.

"You've already talked about recommendations with Em, miss May but would you be kind enough to recommend something for me too? No bread, I'm afraid. I'm gluten intolerant." He wasn't, he just disliked the sponge-like texture but people didn't comment on the gluten intolerance nearly as much.

Law looked between Cora and miss May before reaching out to take Emil's hand. She must have thought about goading miss May into grabbing Cora's hand too because she took his without a moment of hesitation - as if it was perfectly natural for the two of them to keep their hands linked on the table.

"How did you two met, miss May?" Emil questioned, with a note of amusement in her tone. Good, if she just threw this question in between miss May and Cora, Cora could just jump in to answer. "I met Law a few years back when he came to my island and - looking for accommodations - stayed at my house." With a soft smile, she looked at him. If Law didn't know her an actress, he would believe she was lovestruck. "We hit it off pretty much straight away." Technically not a lie - they became friends quite fast.

"I'm curious about that too." Law leant in toward Cora. "How is it that Rube, my..." he paused and made a thoughtful face. "I suppose a clumsy weird uncle would be a somewhat close though not perfect description, managed to woo such a lovely lady like yourself."

* * *

**Lena**

A double date. His first, at forty!

No, this had the air of a family reunion dinner. Like a young couple meeting the in-laws. Law’s little wisecrack about his unappealing appearance certainly gave it that kind of mood. Would cutlery and bread soon go flying across the tables? Yet, it was an atmosphere not without warmth, warmth that Rosinante soaked up for a minute before guilt seeped in. He had not been there for Law. He had not raised him like he had promised. The life they were to start anew had ended before it could begin.

Rosinante shifted onto the edge of his chair and glanced around the restaurant, his eyes flickering to the door. His three companions were seated at the joined tables, and he was still stranded on his lone chair in the middle of the floor.

_The cheek of Law!_

Still, Rosi sighed. Kids would be kids.

Squinching her eyes, May looked over and scrutinised Rosinante, then she scrutinised Law, as though searching for a resemblance in their features. Rosinante shrugged and turned his palms up. _He’s adopted,_ Rosi mouthed silently, to explain Law’s impudence. He gave a slight shake of his head and a look that implied it couldn’t be helped.

May flushed at Law’s playful flattery. She clasped her hands together and beamed. “Oh, child.” She chuckled, mirth glinting in her eyes. “You’re a hundred years too young to be buttering up an old crone like me,” she said, with mock reproach. “And don’t be so hard on old Rube.” She looked over at Rosinante and cooed reassuringly, “You know looks aren’t everything, dear.”

Now Cookie was giggling.

“Hey, Rube,” May said, “why don’t you sit closer with us? It’ll be easier to talk, and you wouldn’t be blocking the way.”

Rosinante obliged after a waitress balancing two trays on her hands had to circumvent him. He carried his chair over and sat down opposite Law, one knee jutting out to the side, the other bumping the underside of the table, rattling the tableware. Rosinante calmly repositioned his leg and fixed Law an intent gaze, mapping out the changes and creases in Law’s face. The boy he had given and would still give everything up for. Why had he put off reaching out? It all seemed so silly now.

Law asked for recommendations, and May’s small, wrinkly face scrunched up at his words. “Glu- _ten_?” She evidently did not get gluten intolerance. “You can’t eat bread, love?” She regarded him with sympathy. “Oh, that’s a real shame, but not to worry, you have plenty of other options.” She reached across the table and patted Law’s hand. “We’ll get you and your sweetheart well-fed. That’s a promise.” May smiled. Then she got up and skittered around the table. Standing between Law and Cookie, she hovered over their shoulders, her beaded necklace dangling close to the menu that lay open. She licked the tip of her finger and riffled through the pages with the familiarity of one who had each page committed to memory. She pointed out a few dishes, of varying flavours, spicy and sweet and savoury. Then she called for the waitress and, with Law’s agreement, ordered on his behalf before she returned to her seat.

The waitress left. Rosinante blinked. When he looked again, Law and Cookie were holding hands on the table. How bold. Not that they should’ve anything to hide, but now it looked like they had something to declare. Rosinante frowned. A coded message, for him? He already knew they were together, though. He pushed those thoughts away. He should be happy Law was not too warped to display affection. Maybe there was something normal about him, after all.

Law, in love? A smile touched Rosinante’s lips as his chest swelled with gratitude. Their young love, their holding hands, also reminded him of a time long ago, of a certain pair of hands, always with the citrus scent of tangerines, hands that he had held and then let go. And never held again. Rosinante flicked his lighter under the table, his smile fading.

May’s smile faltered too when her eyes lingered on the ink on Law’s hand. May was about to comment when Cookie asked how May and Rosinante had met. May’s face brightened. She pulled her shoulders back and her hand shot out and grasped Rosinante’s arm. The lighter clattered onto the floor, a close shave from self-immolation. There would be too much manoeuvring required to retrieve it, and May’s hand was sliding towards his, catching his fingers in her own, so he left it.

There it was again! As Cookie told them how she had met Law, the gaze she gave Law was dripping with such pure adoration that Rosinante felt warmth rising to his cheeks. His expression softened. Law would be in good hands. He only hoped they could make it work. As long as Law didn’t take relationship advice from him, it would be fine! Oh, how Law had matured. Rosinante was glad May was holding his hand, or he’d reach over and tousle Law’s hair.

May beamed. Her face leaned against her hand, she gave Rosinante’s a squeeze. May chuckled and brushed off Law’s compliment with a wave. “It’s very sweet of you, love, but an old lady knows when she’s way past her prime.” She turned to Rosinante and sighed fondly. “He’s such a dear, so well-mannered and gentlemanly.”

“Yeah, he’s the sweetest,” Rosinante said, convinced they were talking about his adopted son. Then he frowned and his eyes swivelled to Law’s. “Oh, we’re not toget—”

“It was luck! Fated to be!” May’s owlish eyes went wide. She threw her hands up celebratorily in the air, her bangles jangling. She pursed her lips in thought. “…Clumsiness has an appeal, doesn’t it?” She looked between Law and Cookie. “When you find an injured little-or giant-birdie after a storm, don’t you just want to take it home and nurse it back to health?” May canted her head to a side and flashed Rosinante a look that made him choke on his saliva. It was a look that could’ve rivalled the lovestruck gaze Cookie had given Law.

Rosinante sighed when he noted the glint of playfulness in May’s eyes. “I was camping. The weather and mother nature had other plans. Long story short, in the battle with gales and a thunderstorm, it was my defeat. There was a flood, I was swept away, and then I found May, or she found me. “ He shifted in his seat, stretching out his leg, unintentionally kicking Law’s foot. He turned to May and knitted his brows. “Speaking of, you never told me what you were doing all the way out there during the storm.”

May chuckled and patted him on the shoulder, shaking her head. “I can’t remember what I had for breakfast this morning, Rube. Don’t be silly. How would I remember something from weeks ago, hmm?”

Rosinante nodded. May’s forgetfulness was on par with his clumsiness. “And there you have it,” he said, glancing over at Law. “We hit it off pretty much straight away,” uttered with a straight face. “But I’m sure you don’t want to hear all about that.”

“But if you _do_ want to hear all about that, come over and visit us for tea someday,” May chimed in, leaning forward with her chin on the backs of her hands. “Any friends, nephews, sons of Rube’s are friends, nephews, and sons of mine,” May proclaimed, smiling. Then her eyes swept over the glass doors of the restaurant and her smile lost some of its verve. She stared distractedly at the three hooded figures that passed on the street, the rest of her smile vanishing. Rosinante followed her gaze but saw only a couple engaged in a heated exchange outside the doors. May’s eyes flicked back to the table and she plastered on the biggest smile as she grabbed her purse and pushed her chair back. “Excuse me a moment, dearies. I have to make a trip to the ladies,” May said, standing up. She turned and took two steps away before calling out over her shoulder, “And feel free to start without me! I might be a while, age and all!”

Rosinante watched as May scurried off and almost collided with a waitress along the way. She righted herself with ease and agility, where Rosinante knew he would’ve nosedived, and disappeared into the back. Rosinante turned back to Law and made like a goldfish, his mouth opening and closing, and opening and closing. He clasped his hands on the table and studied the labels on the condiment bottles. Sugar and salt? What about pepper? Or mustard or ketchup or wasabi? He sighed and lifted his eyes to Law’s. He felt a great weight settle in his chest and stomach, the build-up of all the rehearsed but unmade calls, the written but unsent letters, the planned but unscheduled meetings, all the words and advice and scolding and praises gone unexpressed, all of it gathering in a colossal lump pressing at the back of his throat, an outpouring impending.

Rosinante swallowed and pinched his lips together, his twitchy fingers reaching for his spare lighter. Under the table: _Flick. Flick. Flick._ No, while he had no qualms embarrassing himself, he would not embarrass Law, especially not in front of Cookie. When Law was a child, Rosinante never held back. He spoke from the bottom of his heart. But things were different now. He had to exercise restraint, had to consider Law’s reputation and whatnot. Yes, he would save the heart-to-heart talk for later, in private. Then he could let loose.

But when he opened his mouth… “Law, I’m so happy for you both!” He was gushing, with one of the silliest smiles he’d worn in years. He sat upright in his seat and slammed the lighter on the table. “I’m so proud of you, you know?” And he reached over easily with his long arm and tousled Law’s hair, knocking his hat off in the process. “I was so worried you would turn out all wrong, but y-you’re getting married!” It was an announcement he unintentionally made to the whole restaurant. Rosinante leapt to his feet, a hand clamped over his mouth, his eyes downcast. He was quiet for one second. Then he turned around to the crowd and exclaimed, “My son’s getting married, you hear?” There were a succession of hoots and whoops and cheers and plenty of applause to go around.

Satisfied after he’d got that out, Rosinante obediently sat back down, his knee bumping against the table. The salt and sugar toppled over. “So, when’s the wedding?” He was all smiles, his eyes crinkled. “You have my blessings, by the way.” He took Cookie’s hand in both his larger hands and shook it profusely. He paused, though he still held onto her hand. “So, hey, hey, Law, do I get to walk you down the aisle? Or am I to be your best man? You know, I’ve never thought I would have the privilege of experiencing such a role.” He finally let go of Cookie’s hand, his expression sobering. “By the way, does this make me your father-in-law?”

* * *


End file.
